“The same thought you’ve had since you discovered that we could travel through ponds. You’ve been trying to figure out how you could accomplish such things on your side of the door. But the ponds…this bag…they’re not meant for your world. You’ll only fail.”
“What’s wrong with failing?” Keishin tilted his head. “Or wanting to make things better? Just because things have been done a certain way doesn’t mean that’s how they should always be. And if I fail, so what? That just means I’m eliminating a wrong turn and getting closer to the right one. Science was built on the shoulders of great people—as much on their mistakes as on their accomplishments. The whole point of everything I do is to explore all that was, is, and—”
“Could be.”
Keishin nodded. “Exactly.”
“It must be nice…” Hana traced the invisible map over her hand. “To be able to want more.”
—
Narrow docks splintered from the cluster of houses, each leading out into the clouds. Queues of travelers waited on the docks, but what it was they were waiting for, Keishin could not ascertain. There were no boats or ships in sight.
Hana pointed to a dock on their left. “That is our dock.”
“Tell me again why we couldn’t use a puddle to travel to the museum?” Keishin asked.
“You will understand when we get there.” Hana walked over to the dock.
“The museum doesn’t seem to be a popular destination,” Keishin said. “There’s only one person in line.”
“She is not in line. She is one of the kashu.”
“A singer?”
Hana nodded. “These docks belong to the kashu. Each kashu takes you to a different place.”
—
The kashu stood at the end of the dock, dressed in a blue kimono and cradling a shamisen. The stringed instrumentresembled a banjo with a long, slim, and fretless neck and a square, hollow body. The kashu bowed in greeting. Hana and Keishin bowed back.
“Welcome,” the kashu said in a voice that reminded Hana of the pawnshop’s brass door chime. “The wind carries my song east, crossing the Sky Sea and sending the last of its notes to the Kyoiku Hakubutsukan. It goes no farther and does not turn back.”
“How much is the fare for two people to the museum?” Hana asked.
“I do not require any payment.” The kashu eyed Keishin from head to toe and tilted her head as though considering a thought. “Ifyour companion will share a song from his world. I have always been curious about the other world’s music.”
“How…” Keishin stiffened. “How did you know?”
Hana gripped the kashu’s arm. “I beg you, please do not tell the Shiikuin that he is here.”
“Why should I tell the Shiikuin anything? My duty is to ferry travelers. It is all that I am bound to. The rules you break are your concern, not mine.” The kashu turned to Keishin. “And I know that you are not from here because I can hear your heart. Only half of it beats inside your chest. The other half is calling to it from far away, from a place beyond any that our songs can travel to. So, do you agree to the exchange? Another world’s song to send you to your destination?”
“But I can’t sing.”
“There is no need to sing. All you must do is think of a song that carries you away.”
“Away?”
“From here and now. From everything that holds you to the present. Our worlds cannot be that different. You mustcertainly have songs that you have called upon to cast your thoughts adrift?”
“Well…” Keishin said. “There is one song that I can think of.”
“Good.” Thunder clapped over the kashu’s voice. “Share it and be on your way. The Kyoiku Hakubutsukan is quite a distance away, and you do not want to sail your song in a storm.”
“How do I share it with you?”
“Close your eyes and fill your head with your song. Think of nothing else if you do not wish to get lost at sea,” the kashu said. “And hold on tightly to each other.”
